


I'll Just Have To Memorize (An Old Habits Die Hard Ficlet)

by youalreadydid



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Brendon Urie - Freeform, Little bit angsty, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, Past Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie, Pre-Split, Ryan Ross - Freeform, Ryden, Seattle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 13:38:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16598897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youalreadydid/pseuds/youalreadydid
Summary: A perspective on that night in Seattle from the moment Ryan stepped into the diner to the morning after. (A retelling and small continuation of the "Borrowed Time" chapter from Ryan's perspective)





	I'll Just Have To Memorize (An Old Habits Die Hard Ficlet)

    The bell over the door jingles and I think that’s it; that ruins my chance of surprising him, even if he already knows I’m coming. Except, I don’t see Brendon right away. My eyes scan the diner, looking for the booth tucked near the back by the window since that’s where I saw him outside. I see dark hair peeking out of a gray hoodie and my heart skips a beat. He’s still hunched over in the booth and I can see ripped up straw wrappers and napkins in a pile at the edge of the table, yeah, that’s him. _That’s_ _my_ _Brendon_ I think. I duck my head down and start my walk towards the back of the diner, shouldering my backpack and I feel unnecessarily nervous. It’s only Brendon, right? But somehow, it isn’t  _just_ him, it’s like there’s something more there that makes my pulse quicken and it scares the fuck out of me. He doesn’t look up as I approach where he’s sitting so I slide as quietly as possible into the booth, watching his face. He looks concentrated, lost in his own little world, his thumb and forefinger rolling the corner of a napkin. “Would you quit that, you’ve already got a pile started over here.” I smirk as his head shoots up and he breaks into the biggest grin I think I’ve ever seen. I smile despite myself, staring at the man I’m trying so hard not to be in love with and my eyes drop to his lips.

“Hi,” he whispers and I can feel his fingers tangle into mine on top of the table, my pulse quickens again. I drop my head to look at the way his fingers fit into mine, to trace every bump of his knuckles, to memorize the way his hand looks so perfect with mine. My smile hurts my face, I look back up at him and it’s hard not to be madly in love. “Hey,” I breathe out. 

     What’s the point in keeping my hands to myself when Brendon is right in front of me? I can’t not stare at him as he closes the door and I step forward to hold him as he turns. My hands shake so I press my fingers into his hips to hide it, leaning forward,

“I missed you, y’know.” I want to kiss him. Why does he make my breath catch in my throat, still, after all this time? After all the kisses he’s stolen, after all the times I’ve held him under thin sheets, his skin pressed into mine?

“Yeah,” he breathes out, his breath washing over my lips. He leans forward and kisses me, and it washes over all my senses. Everything I feel, everything I am is consumed by him. It’s terrifying. I pull him forward, I take my time kissing him because he’s here and he’s mine. He’s filling up my senses and I want him closer. I feel his fingers trace over the back of my neck, dipping down over the beginning of my spine, leaving his fingerprints burned into my skin. I want to trace the feeling of him all over me as much as it scares me. I tug at his jacket, each tug of my bottom lip between his melting the fear from my blood. He pulls away and it runs back up my veins, but he comes back, tugging again at the back of my neck and it starts to fall away. It’s only him, my fingers pressing into his chest, the side of his ribs, the curve of his spine. Closer, God, he needs to be closer. I feel him tug my vest off my arms and I want every trace of New York washed off of my skin. I want every trace of New York replaced by him. I kiss down his jaw, his neck, and his palms press warm into my chest. I wonder if he can feel my heart because it feels like it could break through my chest. My legs knock against the edge of the bed and I sit, pulling him forward, down with me. He sits in my lap, knees bracketing my legs and our kiss breaks with a dirty smack. I stare up at him, my tongue running over my lips, tracing his taste. I’m trying so hard not to be in love with him.

“Happy birthday.” he whispers, leaning his forehead against mine and I break into a smile. I think it’s too late to try. I’m in love with him. But maybe it’s okay, only for now. Maybe it’s okay to let myself feel it because it’s only us in a Seattle hotel room. It’s him, sitting in my lap with kiss-swollen lips and me wanting him deeper than I thought I could ever want someone, in my favorite place. I love him. I lean forward and catch his lips in a kiss that feels more intimate than the dirty kisses we shared on our way here. I love him. 

     These hotel curtains are fucking thin. His arms are wrapped loosely around my waist, my own slung over his bare shoulders and my face pressed into his collarbones. I lift my eyes to the purple bruises decorating his neck, down over his chest and I smile. I close my eyes again and slide my hand to lay over his chest. His skin pressed into mine is how I’d choose to wake up every morning but it’s unfortunately not my choice. It could be, but I don’t want to share him. I don’t want to share him with the rest of the world, I don’t want to share our love. I want to be selfish with it, keep it for only us. It’s not that I want to hide, even if what he makes me feel makes me scared shitless, I just want it to stay unspoiled. We can’t sneak around forever, I know that. I know we can’t do this for much longer. It hurts, it hurts to think about letting him go but I know it’s inevitable. I squeeze my eyes closed tighter, ignoring the death waiting for us and focus on his bare chest against my cheek, cuddling closer to his warmth. Right now, we’re alive. He groans softly above me, and I act like I’m still asleep.

“Sorry,” he whispers, his morning voice seeping into my bones and I press a kiss into the hollow of his throat. I feel his breath hitch slightly and I curve my fingers over the back of his neck, intent on pulling him down to kiss me. I hum softly and lift my eyes to look at him, a sleepy smile playing over his lips. God, it hurts. It hurts to know that this is temporary, but I’ll ignore it as long as I can. I pull him down softly and kiss him slow, taking in every movement of him, every curve and feel of his lips. I memorize the way he sucks in my bottom lip before he slips his tongue past the seam of my lips. I memorize the way his hands grip onto my hips, his fingers pressing softly into the bruises his mouth formed there just hours before. I memorize the way he smiles against my lips, the sound of his breathing, the way he holds me as close as he can. I memorize everything my senses take in because I know I’ll have to. It fucking hurts. But right now, we’re alive.


End file.
